


Courting

by pinstripesuit



Category: Saga (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripesuit/pseuds/pinstripesuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two balls, two conversations, plenty of alcohol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brampersandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brampersandon/gifts).



“You look like you could use a fucking drink.”

Prince Robot IV snaps out of his revery and turns to face the source of the interruption. A flower briefly flashes on his screen when he recognizes who it is. “Duchess…” He sees her framed against the lights inside the ballroom, the music and noise of the celebratory crowd disappearing under the rustle of her pink gown as she steps towards him.

“IV,” she greets him. “I didn’t think you would need liquid courage at balls.” She hands him one of the two champagne glasses she brought.

IV sighs, amused and relieved to see that it’s her, rather than another infuriating member of the court. “It’s… I just needed some air,” he replies, taking the drink, noting the delicacy of her fingers around glass.

“Yes, they do suck all of the oxygen out of the room,” Duchess says, joining him at the balcony railing, looking out over the glittering Landfall skyline.

“My brother, the Duke, is going off to fight the good fight,” IV replies. “I thought it would be more… somber than this.”

“It’s an honor. For his country and all that.”

“It’s an honor for the King to impress our Landfallian allies,” IV corrects. “And what’s more impressive than giving away one’s eldest son _and_ one’s best wine collection?”

“If it’s any consolation, the soup at dinner is giving me heartburn,” Duchess replies, resting one hand on the railing next to IV’s.

“I’m probably next in line for the battlefield…” IV says apprehensively. “Along with father’s _second-best_ wine collection.”

“Hopefully not. Someone has to stay here and be the pretty face for the royal family,” Duchess gently teases him. 

“These parties still make me feel like a little boy wearing a too-big suit…” IV murmurs.

“I remember you being a little boy in a too-big suit, and you certainly did not look like _this_ ,” Duchess purrs, looking him up and down.

“How much champagne _have_ you had?”

“It is very good champagne,” she replies, swirling her almost-empty glass.

“Is this an improvement?” IV asks, leaning one hip against the balcony railing.

“Hmm… I may need to take a closer look to determine that…” Duchess murmurs, leaning up on her toes towards him.

“That would be… very wise of you…” IV growls playfully in return, moving in closer. He’s surprised when Duchess suddenly leans back from him.

“We should be doing this in _there_ ,” Duchess points out, inclining her head towards the bright lights and bustle inside the ballroom.

“Whatever for?” IV asks, surprised and disappointed.

“Come on, IV. Everyone has been mentally smooshing our faces together and saying, ‘Now kiss,’ for years now,” she explains. “The tabloids have even made photo manipulations of our future children.”

“So we do it for the gossip?” Prince replies, faintly amused.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to usurp your perma-bachelor brother on _something_? Especially the night before he’s shipped off to some battle-torn shithole?” 

“And that is your _only_ reason for wanting to do this?” IV asks teasingly.

“Those breeches do show off your ass quite well,” Duchess replies, resting a hand on his hip.

“Why, _Duchess_ , I didn’t expect...” he teases.

“Oh, come the fuck on, IV,” Duchess sighs, an actual eyeroll flickering on her screen. “Like _you_ would even be the first...”

“Should I already be sending out the wedding invitations?” IV teases, leaning closer towards her.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” She takes her arm in his, turning back to face the balcony door. “Now, let’s make this look good. They might be getting bored with the party and start talking about the war...”

\-------------------------------------

“You look like you could use a fucking drink.”

Princess Robot turns around, seeing black bat’s wings silhouetted against the glow of the ballroom. She’s annoyed and wishes to tell her interloper off, but she remembers one does have to be a gracious hostess at these things, even though many months of pregnancy is making that increasingly difficult.

“Forgive my interruption, Your Highness,” Gale replies with a bow, his wings sweeping up. “I just wanted to return your generous hospitality.”

“And who are you?”

“Special Agent Gale, from Landfall. Ma’am.” 

“Yes… Yes, I remember. I’ve seen you around the embassy… Doing _what_ , exactly?” she asks.

“Mainly, wearing this stupid bowtie and trying to not inadvertently stab something at these parties,” Gale answers, gesturing to inside the ballroom.

Princess tilts her head in a faint gesture of amusement. “Trust me, this is one of the less horrendous ones.”

“Do you have any coping strategies you would care to offer?” Gale asks.

“Alcohol. And plenty of it.”

“Already got that covered,” Gale replies, pulling a flask from his pocket. He smirks at her, offering it to her first.

“If only,” Princess Robot sighs, gesturing to her swollen belly.

“Mmm, wise. Don’t want to be mommy-shamed by the tabloids?” Gale replies, taking a swig from the flask.

“They start the mommy-shaming before he even sticks his dick into you,” she says, crossing her arms over her too-tightly corseted chest.

Gale grumbles, then his face softens in an expression of sympathy. “I’m very sorry about your husband, the Prince,” he says. “To be so far away, leaving you here with a kid…”

“He’ll be back before the birth, I’m sure,” Princess replies, confident but stiff, having already answered that question numerous times that night.

“Then he better fly back quickly,” Gale murmurs, frowning a little, hoping the Prince _will_ be back soon. “Still, I wish him, and your child, all the best.”

“How about a dance?”

Princess considers the Landfallian for a moment. “...Sure. You’re one the few people in attendance at this ball who doesn’t seem to be a _complete_ imbecile.”

“It’s a great honor, Princess,” Gale replies with another exaggerated bow. “I just need to make a quick call first. Meet you inside?”

“Hurry then,” Princess says, stepping past him back inside. “My dance card fills up quickly.”

Gale waits until she’s well inside among the bustling crowd, then brings up the contacts on his phone. He snarls at the response he receives on the other end when the call connects. “Um, to know why the fuck you’re _sleeping_ when PFC Alana is still running around with a Wreath terrorist and their failed abortion? _Where are you?_ ”


End file.
